


sleepy saturday afternoon

by electronic_elevator



Category: Original Work
Genre: ABDL, Diapers, Fluff, M/M, No named characters, POV Second Person, admittedly sort of strange in tone and form, romantic and soft, the POV character’s love interest uses he/him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2020-05-19 14:35:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19358983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/electronic_elevator/pseuds/electronic_elevator
Summary: alternate title: the art of enjoying a day off. short domestic interaction involving a nap and a diapering. // Written June 2019





	sleepy saturday afternoon

**Author's Note:**

> yeah, this is written in 2nd person… I think it fell somewhere between a specific pairing that would’ve been too OOC, a generic pairing that would’ve been hollow, and a self insert/self-ship which would’ve been bitter, which left it here on the only ground it could grow on. So, it’s a specific taste, but I hope someone enjoys.

It was — was, past tense — about 4 PM on a Saturday afternoon, toward the middle of summer. You and the love of your life were laying together toward the middle of your bed, making it a bit too warm, but not enough to overpower your shared desire to stay put. He’d been working on his laptop; you’d been reading, but evidently the pancakes you’d had for what was emotionally, if not functionally, a very late brunch required sleeping off because it was — present tense — now about 4:45, and you’d just woken up. Your book was now pages-down on your chest, the middle two bent out of shape but undamaged, otherwise it appeared you hadn’t missed much. Your partner was clearly still too warm, and also still asleep, because he was splayed out with limbs askew with the pillow shoved away and under no covers. It seemed he’d fallen asleep somewhat willingly: his glasses were folded and resting near his also-at-rest laptop. The house was still bright and quiet; your heart still full. 

You spent another minute basking in the literal and metaphorical warmth and light, doing not much but blinking and allowing feeling to slowly return to your limbs. Once you felt confident in the pressure applicable by your fingers, you moved his laptop to safety and worked on finding your place again. A few minutes after that he stirred only slightly, perhaps sensing your alertness, and made a sound not unlike the mrrp of a sleeping cat before blinking open his eyes. They were still hazy with sleep; soft, unfocused, unburdened, and roamed gently until they met yours. A gentle smile, a rare variant, graced his lips and you could not love him more. 

“Did you sleep well?” You asked. 

“Mm-hmm,” he replied, closing his eyes again. “Still sleepy. Don’t want to get up.” 

Well, you weren’t going to make him, but then he thought better of it and checked the clock. “I can’t sleep past 5 PM,” he continued, softly. 

“A conundrum indeed.” 

Slowly, he experimentally wiggled his arms and legs. Upon finding them in working order, he flung an arm over to reclaim his glasses. Then, he squirmed around and up the bed until he was laying on your chest, one arm flung weakly to your other side and the other leaving a thumb suspiciously close to his lips. He was still dead weight — some deeper level of him seemed to be still asleep. 

Your love only felt cuddly and pliable on occasion. It seemed, even, that he may have woken up feeling little. Seizing the opportunity, you relegated the book to the night stand and stroked his hair. 

He laid there long enough without moving that you started to think he’d fallen asleep again before he wiggled his extremities once more, very nearly slipping that thumb in his mouth.  
“What’s wrong?”

“Gotta get up and don’t wanna.” 

“We’ve got all of tomorrow; you don’t have to get up.” 

“Gotta use the bathroom. Need water.” He was pouting. Yes, he was clearly pretty close to his little headspace. 

You waited for a moment. He made no move to actually get up. Twirling his hair around your fingers, you informed him, “Hmmmm, I don’t think you’ve gotta do anything except be my little boy.” 

This elicited another cat-like sound, this time rather embarrassed, and he hid his face in your shirt. 

“Let me up and I’ll take care of you, okay? Then we can go back to cuddling.” You carefully slipped yourself out from under him, ignoring the noise of protest he made. Once you were standing, he curled up on the bed and watched while you obtained some things from the closet: a diaper and powder, a bottle; a pacifier for after, the wipes on standby for later.

“Should I be hurrying?” you called softly when you saw squirming out of the corner of your eye. 

“No,” he protested distantly, re-curling upon presumably finding a comfortable spot. 

You didn’t really need to ask — he wasn’t well and truly little yet so you knew he could wait. But you also knew he wouldn’t want to, so it was quickly that you walked to the kitchen and filled the bottle up with cold water. 

Upon your return, you offered this to him, which he accepted and began to sip at even as his cheeks and ears flushed red. 

“Let’s get you diapered now, yeah?” You tugged his pants and underwear down to his knees, watching his embarrassed face, which he’d thrown one arm over to cover his eyes while the other still held the bottle to his mouth. In a word, he looked adorable. 

“Can you lift yourself up for me?” you asked, and he complied long enough for you to get the diaper between his legs, powdering him amply before expertly pulling it up around his sides and fastening the tapes. With a soft pat to the front of the diaper, causing it to crinkle in the quiet room, you pulled his clothes back up over the new garment. 

“All done,” you decreed, setting the other things aside so you could climb back into bed beside him, at which time you were immediately re-climbed-upon. 

No, neither of you really wanted to do anything except lay here together quietly in the afternoon light, and you were quite glad you had the means to make that happen.


End file.
